Wake Up
by LavenderPotato
Summary: N contemplates the past from a psyche ward. Harmoniashipping.


**I hate coming up with titles. I normally just go through itunes until I find something that sounds good. Anyway.**

_**THIS IS GENDERBEND AND THERE IS RAPE.**_

**That's in caps to catch your attention and to warn you, because odds are, you're going to ignore this. Unless you didn't. In that case, good for you. Anyway yeah, I promised myself I'd write this because I'm a huge fan of genderbending anyone, and I wanted to see how well I could write a genderbent harmoniashipping fic. **

**So N has titties. You've been warned. If that's not your type of thing, go away.**

* * *

You probably don't remember me. Or maybe you do. I wouldn't put it past you.

It's dark here. The shadows on my wall from the window used to scare me, but not anymore. I know it's not monsters outside waiting to eat me, I know better. If only I'd known better before, things wouldn't have turned out this way. I have pills shoved down my throat everyday because of you, I have doctors coming in left and right jabbing me with needles and telling me everything will be okay, when I know it won't. I have nightmares every night of you.

You think I've forgotten? I wish I could forget. I wish I could close my eyes, picture a world without you, and realize everything that happened was just a bad dream. I wish a lot of things.

I'm told not to think about it, that forgetting will be better, healthier for me, but it's just not possible. No, not with you. I can't just will away all the awful things you did to me and forget them.

I wonder where you are now?

I miss Momma. I miss playing with my toys, playing with my pokemon toys and pretending I was some kind of hero out on a quest to save the world. I miss the times Momma came in, tucked me into bed, and read me a story. You always told me I looked so much like her, we could've been twins. I loved it when you told me that. I loved thinking I was as beautiful as my momma, as that beautiful woman. I wanted to be beautiful, and it made me feel happy when you told me I was just as beautiful as she, that you loved me, and you loved her.

What happened, Daddy? Why did you change? You said it was my fault. I still remember it like it happened yesterday, or maybe even sooner.

I was small. Very small. And you were so big and tall. I was playing with my toys, with my pokemon plushes, hugging them, loving them because they were my favorites, and you slammed my door open. I got scared, because I thought something was wrong, and then I saw red on your hands. You said it was my fault, I was a bad person, a bad daughter.

Do you remember how old I was? I do.

I ran up to you, asking what was wrong, why was there blood on your hands, why were you bleeding, and then you hit me. You screamed that everything was my fault, it was my fault Mommy was hurting, Mommy was bleeding, Mommy was dying. It was my fault because I was bad.

There's a nurse in my room. She's trying to be nice to me, but I can't tell if she's looking at me with contempt or pity. These people know what you did to me, but they respect and admire you. Who are they to pick your own flesh and blood over you?

I don't know what you told them. I know what _I _told them. I told them my daddy hurt me, but they brushed me off. 'She's just a little kid, she doesn't know what she's talking about.'

I'm not crazy. I know what you did to me.

You locked me in my room for a long time after that. All my toys were taken away. You left me all alone, because I was a bad girl, and bad girls deserved punishment. No more toys, those were for babies, no more sweets, I'll get fat, no more story time, because it's all my fault my mommy can't come into my room and tell me she loves me anymore.

Then you finally visited me one night. I cried a lot before you did, because I missed you. I missed my daddy and I wanted him to love me again, to tell me I was his baby and that everything would be okay.

You told me to get on my hands and knees and you slapped me when I asked why. You said it was my fault you had to hurt me, because I made you hurt Mommy too. Mommy was dead, I made you kill her, and you were going to hurt me because I had hurt her.

You got behind me. I remember crying a lot, begging you, pleading with you, why. Why. I was too little to understand what was going on. I think I blocked it out. I remember hurting, I remember you yelling at me that every time I cried, you would hurt me more, and only when I realized how bad I was being, you would stop.

I cried because you had blood on your fingers, my blood, and you told me you would continue to do this to me until you felt like I had learned my lesson.

I couldn't move the rest of the night. I was so tired, but it hurt too much.

The next night, you came in again. I was told to get on my hands and knees. Daddy, why did you do this? Didn't you know how sorry I was? I cried into my floor, because you pushed my head into the carpet and screamed that I was disgusting, that you were ashamed of me. I sobbed at you, I screamed at you that I was sorry, I was so sorry for hurting Mommy, to please, Daddy, I loved you, _I LOVED YOU!_

These doctors are back in again. I hate them. I really hate them. All they do is poke and prod me with needles, and tell me I'm unwell. I'm not sick, and I'm not a liar. Of course, they wouldn't believe me over Lord Ghetsis. Because he's the best, he saved them from having nothing to do with their lives, he saved them from rotting away in this fucking shithole humans live in.

I'm in awe at how stupid people can be, to have such codependency on a person who is clearly a sick bastard.

I blamed myself for so many years. I held you in the highest regard, I put you on a fucking pedestal, a throne, in my eyes, you were the best person in the world, and I was the lowest, the most putrid and worthless. I told myself it was my fault you hurt me, it was my fault you shoved your fingers into me, telling me you would hurt me.

Daddy, you were perfect, so how could I think any less of you, the person I loved so, so much? The one person I gave all my trust to, all my love, everything I could think to give to you. I handed it over just to win back your love.

When I got a little older, you told me I was ready and when you came into my room one night. You made me lie down on my back. I was obedient though, I wanted my daddy's love, I wanted him to know I would do anything for him, that I was tired of being alone, of being told I was filth.

You denied it. You denied every fucking thing. You held me down while I kicked and screamed and tore me up. When I cried, you hit me. When I begged and pleaded for you to stop, you raked your nails down my stomach until I bled. When I did everything for you, when I still loved you and told you over and over how sorry I was, you denied it.

I was a bad person though.

My punishment was over, and you told me you had to fix me.

I couldn't get what you did to me out of my head. Still, I was too young to fully comprehend just exactly what you did to me. I almost wished you had raped me when I was older, so that when I got pregnant, I could have prepared myself better for it.

Sitting in a corner of my room as far away as possible from the door had become routine. When some of the ladies would come in to feed me, I tried telling them what was going on, but they brushed me off. They told me I just had an over active imagination. Of course Daddy wouldn't do things to me, of course, _of course_. He was Ghetsis fucking Harmonia and I was just N. Of course they picked you over me. Even when I gathered the courage to tell the really nice ladies what you'd done. They just smiled, patted my back, and told me it was all a bad dream. My mommy dying was just praying on my mind, they'd tell me. I was just imagining things.

Then I got really sick one morning. It felt like forever I was doubled over the toilet, vomiting, heaving, coughing. I thought I had just caught a nasty bug, but when you called the doctor in to examine me, he told me I had a baby growing inside me.

He didn't even look surprised. Maybe he knew everything you did. There was no emotion whatsoever from his side, but I began to cry, because I didn't understand. I was going to be a mommy? I was still little though. I was only 9, but it was happening, something I didn't even understand.

You were mad. Very mad. You told me it was my fault, that you had tried fixing me so that this wouldn't happen, but I was a horrible person, and because of that, you had to get rid of the baby. No, not my baby, you kept calling it a thing. I couldn't even picture myself as a mommy then. To me, it was just something growing inside me, something horrible, something I wasn't ready for, something not human, definitely not a baby.

I was scared, so scared, because I knew it was all my fault. Somehow, I had done something so bad, so terrible, and you were angry at me for it. I was so sorry, Daddy. I was so sorry. I loved you so much.

The doctor was ordered to get rid of the baby. You told him to fix me too, so that this wouldn't happen again. You tried fixing me when I was little, but it didn't work.

I cried a lot after that. I was scared, just thinking about having a tiny thing growing inside me. I didn't understand any of it. I didn't know how it got there, I didn't know what would happen, I was so terrified of the unknown.

The doctor gave me no sympathy when he put me to sleep. "It will all be over when you wake up. There will be no more baby, and this won't ever happen again."

When I woke up, everything felt like a dream. I was in my room, it was dark. My tummy ached.

You were next to me, holding my hand. You said everything was okay now, the doctor had made everything better. I was scared, because nobody would tell me what was going on, nobody would believe me about you, nobody would help me.

I was still aching, but you leaned over to kiss me and told me how beautiful I was. I wanted to cry, because I missed you so much, I missed my daddy telling me things and comforting me, like he was supposed to. I wanted to believe everything was okay now, that things would get better, that I would be okay. I wanted you to love me.

After being 'fixed', I thought things would be normal again, like they used to be when I was very little. When I was all better again, you still visited my room at night, you still had me locked up, you still pinned me to the bed, the floor, wall, wherever you could get me, and it happened over and over.

The older I got, the worse things were. My hair grew longer, curlier, my breasts grew in, I developed curves. I got taller. When I was little, I wanted to be as tall as you, Daddy. I dreamed of being big like you, of towering over everyone. It was a goal I set for myself, even though I was little and didn't know you couldn't control that. I thought if I ate my vegetables and did what I was supposed to do, I would sprout overnight.

But you were still bigger and stronger than me. You were still able to hold me down, even when I fussed and cried, you smothered me. And when I tried to fight you off, when I tried screaming for help, you hit me. Your hands would be on me, your fingers wrapped around my throat, squeezing so tight I thought my windpipe would crush underneath, and you told me to stop being a bad girl, stop acting out, or you would make everything so much worse.

I cried a lot, but I listened to you. I thought surely that was the worst of it, seeing the way you looked at me while you strangled me, like you hated me. I thought surely my daddy will take pity on me and stop.

I was so fucking naive, I can barely stand it. I listened, I let you do what you wanted, I obeyed every humiliating order you gave me, because I loved you so much.

Looking back on it, I still don't understand any of it. I'm 20 years old now. I'm all grown up, Daddy. I still feel you every night. I still feel your hands on me, all over me, the way you pressed onto me, kissed me, told me how beautiful I was. It's like you're never going to leave. I'm still wrapped up in your arms, I'm still being smothered, I'm still being choked and hit, screamed at. You still look at me like you can't stand me.

And I still love you. You're sick and wrong, you hurt me so much, you made my life a living hell, but you're my daddy. You're the person who got under the covers with me when I was little and read me stories, you're the one who got me toys for my birthday, you're the one who told me I was your little princess and that you loved me.

The room's so quiet right now. Sometimes I miss my old room, but sometimes I don't. It was pink, but it was my prison for so long that these white walls can be comforting if I let them. I have a window now. I like opening it and feeling the cool air come into my room. It doesn't feel so trapping after that.

When all the doctors and nurses go to bed, I sneak out of my room, and I like to wander around. Even though they've branded me with being crazy, they still let me walk around sometimes. I don't know what's so crazy about what I've told them all. Unless...I really am. I don't want to think I'm insane, because it'll just hurt more.

The hallways are dim, lit by small desk lamps with flowers next to them to try and brighten up the white walls, the white floor. I like going up and down the stairs. I like picturing myself higher than anyone else, like I'm on top of the world.

At the end of the hallway is a closed door. I can see light flickering from behind the tiny window. I know it's not locked, so I open the door.

This is where you live now. You're in a bed, worn out, sick, and there's nothing the doctors can do to help you. I feel loathing toward you every other day, every time I'm not staring at you on that bed, completely helpless. Then when you turn to me, I can't help but remember the daddy I used to love.

"Hi, Daddy."

You don't speak. I don't think you can anymore. I move to your bedside and stare in the direction you're looking-the tv chatting away about weather. Do you even realize what's happening anymore?

Your breathing is raspy and strained. It's like it hurts for you to even be alive. When I'm in my room being injected with medicine and having pills jammed down my throat, I want to smile knowing you're suffering along with me now. You're helpless, you're the one who's going to die here all alone, completely dependable on the nurses to help you clean the piss off yourself. At least I have a chance.

I'm not afraid of you anymore. I can't forgive what you did to me, what you're still doing to me, because this is going to be with me for the rest of my life. I can't get rid of you. Even when you're long gone, even after you die in this room, after you've marinated in your own filth, it won't get rid of you.

I suppose coming to your side makes me a little crazy. Maybe I am insane after all.

But you're still my daddy. You're still my parent. You're all I have left.

Pulling a chair beside your bed, I seat myself next to you and hold onto your hand. It's cold, and you react by looking at me. That same look, like you can't stand me, but I smile at you as I run my finger over your knuckles.

"I love you, Daddy."

**End**


End file.
